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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26600686">The Captain's Penance</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimeewrites/pseuds/aimeewrites'>aimeewrites</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Captain's Training [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: Voyager</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, BDSM, F/M, Masochism</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:41:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,845</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26600686</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimeewrites/pseuds/aimeewrites</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After Ransom's death, Kathryn Janeway needs to get rid of her guilt</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Captain's Training [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952092</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Captain's Penance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time Justin Tieghe, her fiancé, had taken her to a club in San Franscico, Kathryn Janeway had been slightly scared, slightly curious and slightly horrified. That first time, she had just watched, her scientific mind trying to understand why so many people wanted to be humiliated, hurt or beaten in public. For her, it was unconceivable. Unconceivable, too, why she found it…exciting. The second time, she had done a little research, but she hadn’t yet been fully prepared:  she had watched, wanting to participate, but not yet daring to. The third time, she had called Justin Sir during the whole evening, had knelt at his feet, let herself be fed, obeyed his orders, and found in it an extraordinary sense of freedom. Her body had reacted to this new-found sensations of submission, too, and never had she been so aroused or so reactive. And yet, she had never told Mark about it, as he wouldn’t have understood – not that she was ashamed, but…It wasn’t easy to explain, that need to be held accountable for her actions, to relinquish control, to submit. So whenever she had had a night alone and felt a need, she had gone back to the club, alone, and asked for whatever punishment she felt she deserved. Sometimes she got it, sometimes she was chastised for trying to top from the bottom and got a more severe one. But she always left lighter than when she arrived.</p><p>As she came into the room, Janeway took the time to observe her surroundings before bowing her head and lowering her eyes. The décor reminded her of the club but it was obviously destined to make her think of Voyager’s bridge too, and the people who turned to stare at her were all Voyager officers and crewmembers. The lights were low and classical music droned in the background. Sitting in a velvet armchair near an empty space lit by projectors, was the one who she would submit to. Even though the rest of the audience was in uniform, Chakotay wore a black leather jacket and black leather trousers, not unlike the outfit he’d worn on the Val Jean, when they had met for the first time. She herself was wearing her uniform – it was part of the ritual.</p><p>Taking a deep breath, she took another step and came to stand at attention in front of Chakotay. His deep voice was no louder than usual but it seemed to her it reverberated in the room like a loudspeaker announcement.</p><p>“Janeway- you have disobeyed orders and thus caused the death of a man. Do you think you deserve to be punished?”</p><p>“Yes, Sir,” she murmured, eyes to the ground. He didn’t need to be more specific. She had ignored several Starfleet principles during Voyager’s years in the Delta Quadrant, and in trying to prove she was the better captain, she had caused Ransom’s death and certainly not acted like a Starfleet officer. The phrasing didn’t matter, anyway. She was guilty, and needed this punishment.</p><p>“Undress and kneel.”</p><p>Slowly, with fingers she realised were trembling, she undid her uniform jacket and threw it to the floor. She heard Chakotay clear his throat and blushing, she bent down to retrieve the jacket, folded it and placed it on a chair. Slowly, she discarded her boots, losing several inches in the process, took her trousers off and put them with the jacket. And then she knelt, clad only in her regulation panties, black, and her turtleneck undershirt. Hands behind her back, head hung low, she waited. She heard Chakotay rise and come to stand right in front of her. He raised her chin with his fingers, and their eyes met but she could read nothing in his deep obsidian pools. She saw the knife and involuntarily shivered. Deliberately, taking his time to make her feel the humiliation fully, he ripped each of her pips off her collar and threw them on the floor. Then the blade ran between her breasts and in her back, and the undershirt fell to the floor, leaving her with nothing but her black panties and bra. Two more sleek cuts and the bra joined the undershirt on the floor. She felt his eyes on her, undressing her soul as well as her body. He snapped his fingers and she knew she had to rise. Then she felt another presence beside her, and lifting her eyes, she saw Tom Paris, holding a rope and a whip out to Chakotay. For her insolence, a hand slapped her on her cheek, deepening its already red glow of shame. She looked down again and let her hands be bound in front of her. She trembled as she anticipated the pain. The cat-o’nine tails held by Chakotay, with its leather tails, was an instrument of punishment, far more painful than the floggers Justin had used on her in their bedroom, and it had been a long time since she had been subjected to corporal discipline.</p><p>“Well, Janeway, I think it’s only fitting you should be punished by the captain’s daughter…”</p><p>As he spoke, Chakotay led her to the wall, the crowd parting for them, and tied her bound wrists to a ring, forcing her to raise her arms above her head and expose her back to the onlookers. For a moment, she thought she would be spared the last humiliation, but he stepped forward and tugged on her panties, letting them drop to her feet.</p><p>The first lash hit squarely in the middle of her buttocks and she cried out, more from surprise than from the pain. Then she clenched her teeth and forced herself to take the blows in silence, like an officer. “You deserve it – you deserve it”, ran into her brain, the sentence underlined by each blow, by each sharp pain. As the lashes crisscrossed her skin, she tried to count but after the first ten, she let her mind wander and sank deeper into the sensation. She let go of control and accepted her penance. When the blows stopped, she suddenly felt a male hand caressing the welts and straying inside her legs, and she realised, to her utter shame, that she was wet. She had meant only to atone and finding herself aroused was not part of the plan. Her cheeks burned as fiercely as her bottom as she submitted in silence to the rough caress and let herself be untied and led to the centre of the room, knowing all eyes were on her. There was now a wooden kneeling bench where the armchair had been and Chakotay directed her towards it. He left her there, her welted buttocks facing the crowds, her wetness obvious, with a curt order: “Stay!”</p><p>As bound by the order as by restraints, she forced herself to remain still as several hands came to roam on her body, lingering on the welts, some wandering inside her bottom cheeks, some slapping her already blistered buttocks. When she felt small fingers reach further inside and rub her clitoris, bringing jolts of pleasure, she couldn’t help herself and half-rose, turning her head to see who dared to minister to her need in the middle of a punishment. She didn’t have time to, however, and felt a hand yank her by the hair, forcing her back into kneeling, face towards the ground.</p><p>“You shouldn’t have done that, Kathryn… I was inclined to be merciful, but…” declared Chakotay loudly. “Maybe I should let someone else have a turn… I’ve heard Mr Paris can deliver a good spanking…” He let the threat of further humiliation hang in the air, but finally went on: “But so can I. I’m sure the others will enjoy watching you being punished like a little girl.”</p><p>A few seconds later, she found herself still face down but across his knees, firmly held against his strong body. As his hand landed on her already chastised buttocks, she finally let go of the last dregs of her dignity and although the dim memory of having found herself a few time as a child in the same position on her father’s knees lingered in her mind, her focus was on that ultimate humiliation and on the personal nature of that further chastisement. This was not the captain being punished for transgressing orders anymore, this was Kathryn being spanked by Chakotay. He spanked her slowly, methodically, covering every inch of her buttocks and her thighs in bright red colours, parting her legs to reach the delicate skin inside. And when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, when her eyes started to brim with tears, he stopped. Too overcome to resist, she felt herself being scooped up in his arms. The crowd parted as Chakotay carried her to another room, where a bed occupied most of the space. He deposited her on the bed and looked at her straight in the eyes, and this time she understood the tacit question. She nodded and positioned herself on all fours. She heard his belt snap off, felt him behind her and uttered a sharp cry as he penetrated her, his penis rubbing against her aching buttocks and entering her core. He then turned her on her back and used his fingers to push her to the brink of orgasm. Just when she thought she wouldn’t be able to hold it any longer, he abruptly stopped his ministrations, leaving her bereft, eyes full of reproach, a fire in her lower abdomen unsated. He laughed: “Oh no, Kathryn… Make no mistake – this was a punishment.” </p><p>He pointed to a garment lying on the bed: “It’s time – put this on.”</p><p>“This” was a skimpy white shift, barely covering half of her buttocks, and after having put in on, she felt even more exposed than naked.</p><p>He then led her from the room and although she didn’t dare raise her eyes, she felt every eyes on her, everyone knowing what had happened in that other room.</p><p>He walked her slowly to the door and with a final sharp slap on her abused buttocks, send her on her way.</p><p>“Computer, end programme Janeway Alpha – pi – one – three”.</p><p>The scene faded and Janeway slowly stripped again and retrieved her uniform, wincing as she put the tight trousers back on, then the jacket over the shift. She then picked up the pips which had luckily all rolled in the same corner of the room and slipped out, praying she wouldn’t meet anyone on her way to the turbolift. Once in her quarters, she once again took the jacket off and put a fresh turtleneck top on, on which she affixed her pips. In her bathroom, she splashed cold water all over her face, wiping out the traces of tears, and repaired her hairdo. Her hands hovered over the dermoregenerator, she took it up, and reluctantly put it down again. Just as she wouldn’t bring herself to climax, she would endure the pain a little longer, even though it would be sheer agony to sit down. Her guilt demanded no less.</p><p> </p>
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